


i'll be home with you

by bodhirookes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dancing in the Rain, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Rain, Storms, Thunderstorms, an abundance of rain metaphors and similes, but nothing too saucy tbh, this is all about Ryan loving the rain and Shane being like, this is extremely fluffy and silly so read at your own risk, very brief sex in the middle, wot in tarnation but also i agree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookes/pseuds/bodhirookes
Summary: “Why the fuck do you even like rain?” Shane blurts. “You lived in California up until two years ago. Don’t you constantly crave the heat and all that Bella-Swan-loves-Phoenix-Arizona shit?”Ryan snorts and flings his boxers at Shane’s face. “That’swhyI love the rain, dumbass. It rains, like, once a year in the part of California that I lived in, and only for a short while. I never got to see or feel rain before I moved out here.”“I still don't really get why you like it so much, though. It’s cold and… wet.”“Water isn’t wet.”“I’m not starting this conversation with you again.”Or, Ryan has a strange affinity for rainy weather. Shane has some things to say about it.





	i'll be home with you

**Author's Note:**

> howdy everyone! i’ve been gone for a min, so here’s 6k of pointless fluff. who actually knows where this came from, except maybe probably my own insane obsession with rainy, cold weather since i'm a late autumn/winter midwesterner through and through. please don't expect a lot from this tbh, it's really cheesy and silly and full of dumbass poetic writing about the rain. it's truly ridiculous. 
> 
> am i writing this even tho i know ryan has “delicate southern californian skin” and probably despises rain? ya. do i care? na. 
> 
> i p much only wrote this fic on the days when it was raining so that i could capture that dank ~ambience~ and i also made a playlist of songs i listened to for inspiration [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/ladalecki/playlist/33oaHnn6cpjI6Za2rpT6sO?si=8IT6h6z_SJWqvsT5qGRutg)
> 
> not beta'd! all mistakes are my own! title comes from 'in a week' by hozier and karen cowley

Shane finds it a little surprising that, for as sunny as he is at all times, Ryan’s favorite type of weather is rain.

“It’s romantic, dude,” is what he says about it when Shane asks him one day. They’re sitting inside of Shane’s car, having just run to it all the way from the building they both have a class in. Ryan’s still got his backpack on, and Shane has the keys in the ignition but hasn’t turned the car on yet. He had cursed when they walked out together, the intensity of the downpour soaking them instantly, but Ryan just laughed and ran carelessly behind him to the parking lot. _What are you so happy about?_ Shane had demanded. _We’re going to be soaked until we get home._ And Ryan had breathlessly replied: _Rain is the best kind of weather!_

“Yes- because I’m sure you really want to kiss me while I’m looking like this.” He gestures at his shirt, splotchy in places from fat raindrops, and his disastrous hair, which is now plastered against his forehead.

Ryan grins cutely at him from the passenger seat. “Of course!”

He leans over the center console and crowds Shane up against the car door, one hand reaching for his shoulder and the other reaching for his floppy, wrecked hair. Shane feels fingers pushing his drenched hair back just as he also feels Ryan’s lips settling sweetly against his own.

The kiss is soft and tame, and Shane feels any annoyance towards the shitty weather leave him immediately. He threads his fingers into the back of Ryan’s equally wet, wrecked hair and uses the hold to pull him closer. Ryan tastes like minty gum, green tea, the weekend after a long five days of work, the sun trying to peek out through the clouds in the sky. He barely feels the water soaking into his shoes and socks and the random droplets slipping down his neck.

After a few kisses, Ryan pulls away and grins beautifully up at him. “See? Romantic.”

Shane grins back. “I think that might just be you.”

He begins to doubt his own logic, more than Ryan’s, as they drive home. He turns the heater up as high as it will go in a pitiful attempt to dry them off and it’s making Ryan’s hair soften around the edges and turning his cheeks nice and pink. He looks a little ridiculous, Shane admits to himself, but also softer and sparkly from being soaked through. The rain blurs every part of the car that isn’t in the direct path of the windshield wipers and in turn makes Ryan’s dark hair, rosy cheeks, and white, grinning teeth vibrant against the grey haze of the city.

When they stop at a red light, Ryan doesn’t hesitate to call Shane out for staring at him in between looking at the road.

“What are you looking at me for, big guy?” he teases, and when he rolls his head so that one of his pretty, flushed cheeks is squished against the headrest, Shane swallows. “What’s more important than paying attention while you’re driving?”

It takes two heartbeats for Shane to crack; one to look at Ryan’s cheeks, pink and full from his smile, and another to watch as a stray drop trickles down from his hairline to the tip of his nose. Without caring about how soon the light is going to turn green or about the other cars around them, Shane leans over the middle console to cup Ryan’s non-squished cheek and pull him in for a deeper kiss than before.

Ryan makes a noise of surprise, and Shane just keeps kissing him, even as he sees the light turn green from out of the corner of his eye.

“Shane-” Ryan gives him a little gasping laugh, and Shane just wants to kiss him and kiss him. “It’s green.”

Shane hums and starts to move the car only after getting one last, good look of Ryan.

“I guess you were right.” he says eventually, one hand settling on the steering wheel and the other reaching out to wipe away some more rain drops from Ryan’s face. “It’s kind of romantic.”

Ryan laughs and Shane feels it where the back of his hand has stopped to rest against his throat. “I think that my idea of romantic and your idea of romantic might be a little different.”

Shane strokes his index finger over the hinge of Ryan’s jaw and then lets his hand fall until it’s curled up around Ryan’s knee. Ryan giggles a little and reaches down to link their fingers together, both hands moved to rest comfortably on his thigh. Shane has to put every single ounce of concentration he still has on driving or he’s going to pull into some random parking lot and kiss the hell out of his boyfriend and probably get them both arrested. He thinks that Ryan can probably feel it in the way his knuckles twist and shift when he squeezes Ryan’s hand harder, or rubs his thumb over Ryan’s knuckles. He knows that Ryan can see it written across his dripping, hungry face.

The drive home feels like it takes a thousand years, between the rain and pre-rush hour traffic, and usually this would annoy the hell out of him- especially since Shane is tired after a full week of working and going to school. All he really wants to do is get home, take a hot shower, change into pajamas, and settle down with Ryan for next two days. But, even though he hates the sensation of being damp, and hates being stuck in traffic, he can’t find it within himself to be too upset. The car is finally warming up against the chill of the rain and general chill of mid-October in Illinois, and Ryan is right next to him, lightly caressing the back of his hand and singing along to the radio. In a weird way, this is the best Shane has felt all week.

But he’s still glad to see their apartment building come into view, even if he does have to let go of Ryan’s hand to park the car and grab his backpack.

The absurdity of Ryan loving the rain doesn’t hit him until they’re both (finally) inside, throwing their bags on the floor and checking the mail and getting ready to wind down for the night. Shane’s half-heartedly reading through an email from his professor while Ryan hums and haws over what kind of take-out they should order.

After they both agree on Chinese, they pad down to the bathroom, Ryan chattering about this movie he’s been eyeing on Netflix and Shane trying to coax him into watching _Halloween_ for the third time. One second, he’s turning the shower on to warm it up, and the next, they’re both painstakingly pulling their wet clothes off, and then Shane’s brain catches up.

“Why the fuck do you even like rain?” he blurts, and fully accepts whatever look Ryan will probably give him. “You lived in California up until two years ago. Don’t you constantly crave the heat and all that Bella-Swan-loves-Phoenix-Arizona shit?”

Ryan snorts and flings his boxers at Shane’s face. “That’s _why_ I love the rain, dumbass. It rains, like, once a year in the part of California that I lived in, and only for a short while. I never got to see or feel rain before I moved out here.”

“I still really don’t get why you like it so much, though. It’s cold and… wet.”

“Water isn’t wet.”

“I’m not starting this conversation with you again.”

Ryan sticks his tongue out at Shane, and then pulls him into the shower. Shane sighs as soon as the hot spray hits him, eyes closing of their own accord. He can hear the smile in Ryan’s voice without having to look.

“As you are very well aware of, I’m an anxious person. Rain is just really soothing to me, someone who feels like they’re going to shake right out of their skin at any given moment. It mellows everything out and makes me less keyed-up and cools the whole city off. You know?”

Shane cracks his eyes back open, and smiles. “Yeah. I think I get it. Sometimes I take my midwestern-ness for granted and don’t think to look at things like rain from a West Coast perspective.”

“I think there was a Valley Girl jab hidden somewhere in there.”

“I think that you are correct.” Shane laughs. He reckons that he should probably start the whole shampooing and conditioning process, now that they’re both warmed up and relaxed, but instead, he brings his arms up to curl them around Ryan’s shoulders. He steps closer, until they’re touching chests to knees, and presses a small, loving kiss to Ryan’s mouth. “If I’m remembering right, I believe that there was a time when you said, quote, ‘I have delicate southern Californian skin.’, end quote, when it snowed your first winter here in Chicago.”

Ryan snakes his arms around Shane’s hips, and gives him a light pinch. “That’s snow, you jackass. That’s the Devil’s essence. Rain is completely different- it’s comforting. When I’m in it, it makes me feel on top of the world, and when I’m out of it, I get to enjoy getting warm and cozy again.”

He pauses to give Shane another kiss, one that sinks right into the bottom of his stomach, and they get lost in it for a few moments. When Ryan pulls away again, there’s a look on his face that’s equal parts mischievous and loving.

“You know,” he starts, grinning. “When I think about it like that, rain reminds me of you. Maybe that’s why I love it so much.”

That short-circuits Shane’s incredibly gay brain, and for a second, all he can do is stare down at Ryan in amazement. He tries to formulate a good comeback, but all he can choke out is: “I- you- fucking-” before all of his intelligent thoughts shut down for good.

Instead of attempting to respond, Shane just huffs out a disbelieving laugh and leans down to kiss Ryan deeply. The water goes cold before they get out of it, kind of like being out in the rain all over again.

**_~.~.~_ **

They’re walking home from dinner when the first crack of thunder rolls out across the city, and then the rain starts pouring down.

There’s still another ten minutes until they get back to the apartment. The Four Fools (as Shane has dubbed them in his head) had invited them and a few other friends out for Korean barbeque, and now he and Ryan are slowly making their way back home after a night of laughing, eating, and playing ridiculous drinking games with various flavors of soju. Eugene easily outdrank all of them, but the fact that Ned is a complete disaster when he drinks really made up for it.

Shane’s afraid for a second that the pouring rain will ruin their night, but then Ryan lets out an energized whoop, and he remembers that his boyfriend is a freak who absolutely _loves_ the rain.

“You’re _excited_ about this? Really, Bergara?” Shane grouches, but smiles at the way Ryan lights up.

“I love this!” Ryan yells.

The rain picks up as soon as he says it, until it’s literally pouring down on them. They both get instantaneously soaked, but since Shane’s phone is safe in his jacket, he’s not that concerned. Ryan is clearly not that concerned, either, if the way he lets go of Shane’s hand to run ahead and spin around is anything to go by.

Shane slows down to watch him for a little bit. They’re still making their way down the sidewalk, but since everyone ducked inside or ran to catch a train as soon as the rain started, the streets are mostly empty now. Ryan takes full advantage of this, raising his hands up in the air and dancing along to some little tune he’s singing. If it were anyone else he knew prancing down a well-light Chicago street, singing about how much they loved the rain, Shane would probably be cracking up or telling them to knock it off. But the way Ryan does it is… cute.

Ryan stops singing long enough to turn back to him and ask: “Are you gonna dance with me or what, killjoy?”

“We’re in public, you idiot,” Shane protests, but even he can hear the fondness in his voice.

It makes Ryan laugh and stop right in the middle of sidewalk. He’s got his palms facing the sky so that he can feel the rain as it comes down; he closes his eyes and tilts his head back so that his face is also directly in the path of the rain, and Shane watches as it trickles down his fingers, wrists, arms, forehead, nose, and lips. He looks breathtakingly beautiful, dripping wet and glowing from the street lamps. Shane will never get used to seeing him like this, a wild combination of bright and washed out. It makes him take a few steps closer to where Ryan is standing, raise his hands, and gently link both of theirs together.

When Ryan blinks his eyes open, there are raindrops clinging to his lashes, and they make his eyes look huge and wonderstruck. His fingers slip easily into Shane’s, and Shane thinks he looks even more beautiful when the rain starts to fall over both of them _together._

“What are we dancing to?” Shane asks, dropping a kiss onto Ryan’s knuckles.

Ryan laughs. “Oh, so you’re _not_ above dancing with me? An idiot? In public?”

“You know what they say,” Shane hums, leaning in closer. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“I don’t think that’s how that quote works, but okay.” Ryan pulls him along until they’re lightly shuffling down the street, hands at shoulder level. “I was thinking ‘Edge of Desire’ by John Mayer.”

“Good choice,” Shane compliments, mostly because Ryan’s the one who showed him that fabulous album. “Lead on, then. I guess I’m not going to let you look like an idiot by yourself tonight.”

“Yeah, because I already do that pretty well on my own.”

“Exactly.”

And then they’re off. Shane lets Ryan pull him along the empty, dusk-borderline-nighttime street and dances with him. Sometimes, they twirl each other, and once Ryan even dips Shane to show off his outrageous arm muscles, but mostly they just move their hips and feet in a way that vaguely resembles ballroom dancing. As the rain soaks them through to the bone and makes little _ping ping ping_ noises when it hits the streetlamps, mailboxes, and trash cans, Ryan sings for him. Shane swoons as he listens to the lyrics for ‘Edge of Desire’ slip out of Ryan, some of them escaping into the misty air, and some of them pressed right up against his lips or throat. His voice is soft, but sure, and just as beautiful as the rest of him. Hearing it wrap around the lyrics of John Mayer’s great tale of longing and loving makes his heart fill with warmth.

“ _Don’t say a word, just come over, and lie here with me,_ ” Ryan croons, tightening his grip on Shane’s hands as best as he can. “' _Cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see._ ”

He pulls them both up to a stop, still in the middle of the deserted street, and leans in close to Shane. Looks up at him from under his drop-filled lashes and whispers: “ _I want you so bad, I’ll go back on the things I believe. There I just said it- I’m scared you’ll forget about me._ ”

And Shane is helpless to do anything but kiss the hell out of him, the rest of the song be damned. The fact that they’re in public, on the sidewalk, drenched in every single way possible, escapes him the way that he suspects Ryan was trying to do earlier. All he cares about is pulling Ryan right up against him and kissing him soundly. The way Ryan sang those last lyrics strikes him the wrong way in the gut, like Ryan was asking if Shane really does love him despite all of his weird antics, despite the fact that he likes grapefruit soju more than peach soju, that he believes in ghosts and demons, that he loves the rain and loves to dance in it. Shane tries to tell Ryan with his hands and lips that he loves every single thing about him in a way that he will never be able to with words or song lyrics.

When they part, rain itching to slide back into the gaps between them, Ryan laughs.

“Remember when I said rain is romantic and you didn’t believe me?”

“Remember when I said that might just be you?” Shane teases back.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “After all that, and you’re still gonna argue with me? Christ, you are relentless.”

“I think I’m trying out a way to beat you and join you.”

Ryan throws his head back and laughs again, in the familiar way that Shane has come to associate with him- loud and uncontrollable. He gets another glimpse of Ryan covered in a wonderful combination of rain water and golden street lights, but this time with all of his teeth proudly on display and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. Shane wishes he could even _begin_ to capture this moment for the rest of his life.

“I think you should just let me win for once.” Ryan tells him, bringing his head back down.

“I think that the part where I shimmied my Sasquatch ass up and down the sidewalk with you in rainy, thirty degree weather covered that.”

Ryan makes a ‘mmm’ sound, not confirming or denying this statement, and kisses Shane again. Shane kisses him back immediately, chasing after the rain with his tongue and palms.

When they manage to separate long enough for Ryan to suggest they take this home, Shane is surprised to find that he’s a little reluctant to get out of the rain. He thinks he’s beginning to see the charm Ryan finds in it, and he also thinks that this has been one of the best nights of his life.

“Thank you for dancing with me.” Ryan says to him, quietly, when their apartment building comes into view. They spent the rest of the walk tucked into each other, both arms around each other and heads bent close. “Thanks for being an idiot with me.”

Shane gives Ryan another rain-wet kiss before they have to go inside. “You have to know by now that I’d do anything for you, baby.”

**_~.~.~_ **

It’s a hellish 2:37 A.M. when the thunder and lightning abruptly awake Shane from a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he wakes up, he notices two things: the storm is close enough that it booms thunder and skitters lightning across the sky every forty seconds or so, and he is alone in bed.

After he watches the lightning turn their bedroom purple a handful of times, Shane flips the covers back and crawls out of bed. It’s cold, colder than he remembers it being, and grabs his jacket off of the desk chair before heading out.

He almost misses Ryan because all of the lights are still off in their apartment, and the TV is silent and dark. He checks the bathroom, the kitchen, and then the living room, all to no avail. And then he realizes that the sliding glass door that leads to their balcony is open, leaving only the screen door closed, and that Ryan is sitting on it. He only sees Ryan outside because of the lightning.

Luckily, their balcony comes with a nice jut of roofing over it, so there’s space for Ryan (and Shane) to sit on it without getting soaking wet. Unless the wind blows the rain right into their faces, in which case- well. He quietly opens the screen door and slips out onto the balcony, careful not to step on Ryan’s toes or hands. He pushes a hand through Ryan’s wild hair and then folds himself down next to him.

“What are you doing out here, Ry?” Shane asks, voice hoarse from sleep. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“I just wanted to watch it up close.” Ryan tells him quietly. He moves to thread his arms through one of Shane’s and settles his head down onto Shane’s shoulder. “I can’t see it through the window when it’s dark, but if I come outside, I can see it pretty well. Especially when the lightning strikes.”

“You’re obsessed.” Shane huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t try to make Ryan go back inside or lecture him.

He loses track of how much time they spend outside, watching the rain pour down and the lightning crash through the sky like a million lilac fireworks going off at once. It feels like time freezes in place for them, and the only thing Shane knows is the rumble of thunder and the warmth that Ryan always radiates like a human furnace. All he hears is the sound of the rain hitting the pavement and the sound of Ryan’s soft breathing. All he smells is the heady aroma of wet, fresh earth and Ryan’s sweet, spicy shampoo. The fact that it’s the middle of the night and easily below thirty degrees fades all the way into the background, until the only things he knows are rain and Ryan Bergara’s body pressing up against his.

Time starts again when Ryan tilts his head closer to Shane’s so that he can tell him: “I love you,” underneath the pounding of the storm. It pulls Shane out of his trance, makes his heart stumble and fall in his chest. He looks down at Ryan and catches his eyes in time for the lightning to turn them indigo.

“You do?” Shane tries to sound shocked, scandalized, like Ryan’s never said it before and was never supposed to- an old joke between them. But instead, it comes out soft, serene, like Shane can’t believe that someone like Ryan could ever love someone like him.

Ryan smiles, bright and blurry against the rain, and nods with his cheek still pressed against Shane’s shoulder. “Of course. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

His heart squeezes again. He thinks he understands perfectly what Ryan means when he says it like that. He tries to convey just much he loves this man with words, with a meaningless explanation, but he knows it’ll never be enough.

“I know I’m a shithead a lot of the time,” Shane starts, bringing a hand up to Ryan’s hair like he did when he first came outside. “But I need you to know that I love you, too. I love you so much that I don’t even know how to tell you how much I love you.”

He stops, drags his thumb over Ryan’s temple, and starts again. “I love you more than you love the rain, probably.”

“That’s a lot of love,” Ryan says, a little teasingly and a lot amazed. “Are you sure?”

He says it like Shane said _“You do?”_

“Of course, Ryan. I’ve never been more sure of anything in life.” Shane pauses, and then says, because he hates himself: “Maybe besides the fact that _The Force Awakens_ is better than _A New Hope_.”

“You fucking heathen,” Ryan curses, but he sounds smitten and hopelessly in love even to Shane, and leans in for a kiss.

One kiss quickly becomes two, three, four, and then they’re frantically pushing into each other’s space, hands disappearing up shirts and around shoulders. There’s something about the hotness of Ryan’s skin and tongue mixing with the iciness of the rain and late October wind that makes Shane’s head spin. It makes him feel like they’re the only two people left on earth, the only two bodies left to find each other in this downpour, and makes him want to press Ryan into the cold wood of their balcony and fuck him in front of lightning and thunder.

Instead, he rips his mouth away from Ryan’s enough to say: “Let’s go inside now,” and helps them both get to their feet. They stagger back into the living and Shane fumbles behind him for the sliding glass door, Ryan’s mouth against his throat effectively distracting him. After he gets it shut and locked, the other hand never leaving the small of Ryan’s back, they make their way to their bedroom.

Clothes start coming off as soon as they cross the threshold, Ryan’s hands impatiently clawing at Shane’s jacket and Shane’s hands racing to pull Ryan’s hoodie off first. Their shirts come off, and then sweatpants, and then boxers, until both of them are naked and molded together at the foot of their bed.

Ryan crawls back onto it and spreads himself out for Shane to see. Another flash of lightning licks across the sky, and when it bleeds in through their bedroom window, it paints his body a beautiful shade of violet. Even when it disappears in the blink of an eye and leaves behind darkness, the image of Ryan lit up like an archangel stays behind his eyelids and makes his stomach clench. Shane crawls over him, kissing his way up from Ryan’s knees to his pelvis to his chest to his throat. Ryan is softly panting by the time he makes it to his lips and they kiss each other deeply, the rain still acting as their soothing, electrifying white noise.

After Shane works a few fingers into Ryan, and then his cock, lightning turns them both beautiful shades of violet, lilac, and indigo, and thunder shakes their entire room. His thrusts are deep, long, and precise, his mouth is stuck between kissing Ryan thoroughly and falling open on a series of groans, and when it becomes overwhelming, Shane reaches up and puts a hand on the wall to ground himself. Another growl of thunder rattles through the wall and follows the line of his arm down to where he and Ryan are connected. It sinks into them both, like an anchor pulling and holding them to each other, and Shane understands the words he had been trying to think of earlier. That Ryan fills him all the way up like thunder, makes him feel alive like that beautiful violet lightning, makes him feel understood like the rain.

That Ryan makes him feel like he’s on top of the world and comfortably in the center of it at the same time. Like he’s home.

When Ryan comes, it’s with Shane wrapped all the way around him and the thunder echoing through their bedroom like waves crashing in the ocean. And when Shane comes moments later, the lightning strikes, and all he sees is Ryan’s big, indigo eyes staring up at him like Shane is the reason that it rains.

_**~.~.~** _

They’re only thirty minutes into _The Two Towers_ when, after a rumble of thunder and a series of loud crashing noises, the power goes out.

“Well.” Ryan says. “I guess that’s that.”

Shane is just glad that it’s only one in the afternoon so that they don’t have to sit and struggle in complete darkness until bedtime. They sit together in silence for a few minutes, looking out through the sliding glass door and at thunderstorm. Shane knows that after the spell breaks, they’ll move to check on things and think of something to do together, but for a few moments in time, they just sit and watch. There’s some lightning crawling across the sky, but it’s far enough away that it doesn’t light their living room up. It’s mostly just an endless sheet of rain and some loud, earth-splitting thunder.

Eventually, Ryan turns away from the window to look at him. Shane thought he might be a little bummed about their _Lord of the Rings_ marathon being cancelled until further notice, but Ryan looks like he always does when it rains: weirdly happy.

“You wanna build a blanket fort?”

Shane snorts, carding a hand through the back of Ryan’s messy hair. “That’s your new big plan for the day? Is build a blanket fort?”

“Duh- so we can curl up together and watch it rain.”

“ _Obsessed_.”

But Shane doesn’t tell him no. They heave themselves up off of the couch together and while Ryan scrounges up their best blankets, pillows, and some candles, Shane goes to the fridge and gets what he needs to. He pulls out whatever meat, eggs, milk, cheese, yogurt, fruits, and vegetables they have and sticks them on the deck in a little cooler they take to the beach. He hopes that the twenty degree weather will be enough to keep their stuff nice and cold until the power comes back on.

When he comes back inside, a little damp and cold enough to be covered in goosebumps, Ryan is waddling into the living room with a million and one blankets in his arms. Shane spies their comforter, the individual blankets they sometimes use in bed or on the couch, and a bunch that they keep in their linen closet in case of guests or winter power outages.

“Did you grab every single fucking blanket we own?” Shane laughs, and moves to help him out.

Ryan sniffs. “Of course, dude. Unlike you, I know how a blanket fort is _actually_ supposed to be made and the difference between a fort and a _fort_.”

“I’m sorry- I didn’t know you were the Bear Grylls of blanket forts.”

“You bet your sweet ass I’m the Bear Grylls of blanket forts.” Ryan waves a hand at their dining room table, not bothering to hide his grin. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go fetch me one of the chairs. Let the master do his work.”

Shane laughs again, because Ryan really is something else, but does as he’s told.

When it’s all said and done, after Shane lets Ryan boss him around for ten minutes and helps him assemble their blanket fort, he has to admit that it looks pretty fucking sweet. Ryan hangs the sheets up between the couch and dining room chair in a way that gives them the perfect amount of space to squeeze in together, and the way he formats all of their blankets and pillows in it makes it feel like they’re not even laying on the ground. When Shane crawls inside to get comfortable, Ryan lights some of the candles they have and lines them up by the sliding glass door.

After that, they slip into the dimension where time stands still. As the different scents of the candles slowly mix together to make their apartment smell like cinnamon and donuts and whatever else Ryan gets from Bath and Body Works, the two of them arrange their fully grown bodies to fit together as best as they can. They end up with their heads at the mouth of the fort, both resting against the same pillow, and their arms and legs tangled in a way that lets them maintain eye contact. If Shane moves his head just right, he can see the rain falling through the sliding glass door and Ryan’s sweet, grinning face at the same time.

“This wasn’t a half-bad idea,” Shane admits, after they’ve settled down and spent a handful of minutes listening to the patter of rain and rumble of thunder. “I haven’t built a fort in years. The last time I did, it was when I was in elementary school and my friend was staying the night. Scott had a friend over, too, and they ended up jumping on the fort and destroying it.”

Ryan laughs. “Jake and I used to build them together all the time. Sometimes to watch movies, sometimes to play a game, but the best time we did it was on Christmas Eve. Every single Christmas Eve, Jake would come into my room when it was time to go to sleep and we’d make a giant blanket fort together and read some Christmas stories and talk about how excited we were as we fell asleep.”

Shane feels a pang in his chest at the mention of Ryan and his little brother (sometimes Shane wonders if he loves Jake Bergara more than Ryan Bergara, and so does Ryan) and their childhood traditions. The affection he has for them both instantly changes the mood of their blanket fort from teasing to soft and tender. Sometimes, they try to joke their way out of feeling too gooey, but the way it falls over them now is extremely fitting for the ambiance of the fort and the candles flickering against the dark slate of the sky.

He smiles and runs his knuckles over the small of Ryan’s back. Shane’s fingers dip into the dimples at the base of his spine, and then work their way over the knobs of each individual vertebrae, until his entire hand is moving up and down Ryan’s back and Ryan is practically purring.

“You two are my favorite people on this planet.”

Ryan blinks heavily, like sleep is starting to pull at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious.” Shane tells him in a matching serious voice, light but firm. “You two are like…”

“The biggest pair of dumbasses you’ve ever met?”

Shane giggles, but only because Ryan is one who called Jake a dumbass; if he tried that (or anyone else, for that matter), Ryan would end his life in a matter of seconds. It adds to his endearance of the Bergara brothers- how protective they are of each other.

“No, Ry,” Shane starts again, and lays his palm flat on Ryan’s back, so that he can feel every single one of Shane’s fingers pressing in. “You two are like the sun and the morning air.”

“Explain.”

He thinks about it for a second. “It’s like- Jake is the sun, because he lights everything up. Makes it brighter. Makes me feel warm and safe.”

Ryan makes a noise that indicates he agrees, and Shane’s smile grows.

“And you’re the morning air that accompanies the sun. You’re refreshing and wonderful and make everything around you come to life.”

Ryan opens his mouth to say something, and then stops, looking up at Shane with something fragile and adoring.

“It’s like,” Shane continues, rubbing a socked foot up Ryan’s leg. “You two make the world feel like it’s worth living in. The rain is great, but it’s cold and biting and it hurts when you breathe in the air, sometimes, if it’s too muggy or too icy. But when you breathe in the air in the morning, after the sun comes out, it’s clean and beautiful and soothing.”

For a few heartbeats, Ryan looks and looks at him without saying anything. Shane just continues to run his hands over Ryan’s soft, warm skin and listens to the rain _plink_ down onto their balcony railing.

“I think our weather similes are getting a little out of hand, big guy,” Ryan tells him, when he thinks his voice won’t break. He looks fucking gorgeous, body and face open and eyes flecked with gold from the candles. “It might just be easier to say that you love me.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Shane sighs. “You know? Since you said rain is romantic?”

Ryan grins so widely that it crinkles his eyes. “You said that it was just me.”

And Shane still really can’t fault his own logic. “It is just you. You’re the only one who makes me feel this way.”

“You’re gross,” Ryan tells him, but his voice sounds a little funny, despite trying his best to calm down. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

This time, when they say these words to each other, time remains in place. Even when Shane leans forwards to kiss Ryan soundly, to let him know that he still thinks Ryan is everything good and beautiful and bright in the world, and Ryan kisses him back to tell him that he thinks Shane is captivating and comforting like the rain, that he is the epitome of the word home, time stays still and keeps them in this moment. There is nothing outside of the world they’ve created together, between their fingers and toes and mouths. All there is is the way Shane completely covers Ryan with his body, and the way Ryan holds him close enough to make it seem like they can sink into each other, and the constant downpour of rain outside of their fort.


End file.
